


intimacy

by gabriphales



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012, M/M, Rough Sex, Smutty Angst, bottom!Phil, hurt!phil, im sad abt it, its wild folks, kinda lowkey hurt/comfort, like too rough, top!dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 19:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18784297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: dan's too prone to taking his anger out on phil lately, in the bedroom and out. phil can't handle it anymore.





	intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> i almost cried writing this so like ,, that counts for sth i guess lmao

It’s not supposed to hurt, Phil tells himself as Dan thrusts in and out of his body. It’s not supposed to hurt when he holds him closer, nails scraping deep against the skin on his hips, fingers pressing down and leaving unmerciful bruises. It never used to hurt, when they first fucked like this--with Dan on top, in charge--he was so gentle, lavishing Phil in all the affection and praise he could offer. His hips would stutter and still without warning, so afraid of causing his boyfriend any pain. Phil would have to tell him to keep going, reassure Dan that it was alright, he could go faster, harder, if it hurt he’d let him know. 

But now, Phil wasn’t sure if he even recognized the man holding him down against the bed, he always wanted to fuck Phil from behind, pull his hair just a little too hard, and bite his neck or shoulder, teeth sinking in a little too deep. He was awfully fond of stretching Phil the least he could manage, wanting him to be as tight as possible around his cock. And Phil let him, he never once complained. Not even when the sharp, stinging pain made tears well up in his eyes. Not even when Dan’s hand around his throat made him feel dizzy and absolutely terrified, the room spinning and his vision nearly blacking out.

Sometimes Dan would hit him when they had sex, it was something he’d ask permission for long ago, back when they were first meeting, hormone-addled sex drives and absolute infatuation with each other driving them both up the wall with need. Phil had liked it at the time, liked when Dan would hold him over his lap and bring his hand down against his ass, his wide, pretty massive palm leaving red imprints for them both to examine later.

But back then, he was always careful to take care of Phil afterwards. He’d kiss the inflamed, irritated skin, coat his ass in aloe vera even when Phil giggled and told him he didn’t need it, that he was fine. Nowadays he just left Phil alone in the bed, curling up on the sofa with his laptop taking up all his attention, not even bothering to steal a glance at Phil when he came into the lounge, ignoring his boyfriend until it was time for dinner. Phil tried not to let it bother him, told himself that it wasn’t Dan’s fault, he was just stressed, after all. All the rise in popularity and pressure from fans had gotten to him more than it affected Phil, and he was just tired of having to refute claim after claim, try to keep what they had safe, out of the public’s reach. 

He was scared, scared of being called a faggot again. Scared of being hated, or worse, scared of Phil being hated. For Christ’s sake, someone could hurt him if they knew they were together. Phil was always the more trusting one, the one who was more likely to let his guard down when he most needed it to be up.

And Phil knew that’s how Dan felt, so he let it go. Let the coldness and detachment go. Let the painful sex, the unnecessary arguments, the overall sense of _fuck, it wasn’t meant to be like this_ go. At least, he tried to. Sometimes it was more than difficult when Phil was just trying to make dinner for the both of them and Dan decided he needed to start a fight, always snappy and irritable, never listening to logic or accepting Phil’s apology. He’d always dance dangerously close to crossing his lines, digging just a little too deep, but not deep enough to make Phil resent him for it. It just leaves behind a bitter taste in his mouth, and a weight between his ribs, the kind of ache that waits patiently to be healed by any affection he can get his hands on. 

They were fighting like that again tonight, and Phil already knew how things were going to end. Dan was pressing him up against the kitchen counter, and despite the glazed over glare in his eyes, the way his brows furrowed with such a stern anger, the way he just wouldn’t stop _yelling_ \--

Despite all that, he was still hard. Phil could feel it through his jeans, the firm outline unmistakable as Dan pushed closer. Phil tried to lower his gaze, to submit and get this over with sooner. Dan seemed to grow more frustrated, but it didn’t take him more than a few seconds to grab Phil roughly by his waist, hoisting him up onto the counter. He ripped Phil’s pajama bottoms down, spreading his legs and starting to suck him off. His teeth scraped against the head as he sank down, and Phil flinched, but didn’t tell him to stop. 

This was the best part of sex nowadays, Dan’s mouth on him, whether he was eating him out or blowing him. It felt good, and something about it reassured Phil. Dan was willing to do something solely for his pleasure, he still liked watching Phil fall apart from his ministrations, liked seeing him crying out for more, squirming and gasping with every little thing he did to him.

But it didn’t last long, at least, not long enough. Before he knew it Dan was flipping him onto his stomach, rubbing the tip of his cock between Phil’s cheeks. Phil shuddered, and the sudden realization he has as Dan starts to press inside him makes his stomach twist.

He hasn’t been stretched. At. All. They’d fucked just the night before, so Phil wasn’t exactly completely un-prepped, but holy _shit._ He could feel Dan’s dick spreading him open, the lack of lube not exactly helping with the pain. Phil clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, internally cursing himself for tensing up so much--clenching just made it hurt worse. 

Dan pulled out all the way, before slamming back in mercilessly, giving Phil no time to adjust. He yelped, but the sound only seemed to spur Dan on more, tugging Phil’s head back by his hair. He was impatient, excruciatingly so, building up a fast, careless pace as he practically railed Phil, pounding him against the kitchen counter. Phil tried to muffle his whimpers with his hoodie sleeve, biting hard enough at the fabric he was sure he’d leave a mark. 

Dan hit his prostate, but the stimulation only served to make him feel more weak, more vulnerable. He was scared like this, trembling and trying to fight back tears, even though he knew Dan wouldn’t intentionally hurt him. Right?

He doesn’t realize he’s cumming until Dan makes fun of him for it, calling him a horny bitch, and smacking the back of his head, pressing his face against the cold linoleum. It was too hot, too much for him to handle with Dan still fucking in and out of him, speeding up because he loved overstimming Phil. Phil used to love it when he did that, always let Dan reduce him to a sobbing, shaky mess. But right now his heart was racing and his head was pounding and everything hurt hurt _hurt._

The word seemed so loud in his thoughts, so overpowering he couldn’t hear himself when he started calling it out, desperate little whines of “It hurts, it hurts, _stop._ ” Dan was pulling out almost immediately, but he couldn’t stop himself from hitting his high, cum splattering all over Phil’s ass and thighs. He cringed, moving to grab a towel from the counter to clean him off before he heard Phil crying. It was obvious he was trying to hide it, soft, subdued little sniffles and coughs. Dan pulled him up from the counter, wiping him down and helping him make his way to the sofa in the lounge. He was leaning on him quite a bit, and his legs were shaking, so it was clear he needed the extra support. Dan was happy to give it to him.

After a few minutes, Phil was ready to talk. He didn’t want to, the sickly feeling in the back of his throat only getting stronger as he explained how Dan’s actions had been negatively affecting him, how he just wanted to feel loved again. The fear that came with it was absolutely insurmountable, but Dan seemed to take it gently. He listened to him, listened to him for the first time in months, and Phil couldn’t help but feel relieved.

They spent the night curled up together on the couch, Dan’s duvet covering the both of them, and Phil bundled in Dan’s arms, feeling so utterly safe and protected in a way he hadn’t in so long. Things were going to get better, he was sure of that. Dan loved him, and he always would.

He’d always take care of Phil.


End file.
